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The Picnic 

$nd Other Versus 




Class J^ 


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1909 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



The Picnic 

and Other Verses 



BY 
BLANCHE MORRIS LAUCK 



COCHRANE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

TRIBUNE BUILDING, NEW YORK 

1909 



Copyright, 1909, 

BY 

Cochrane Publishing Co. 



SEP 9 m 



r 



r 

^ DEDICATION. 

i 

To her whom I would emulate ; whose companionship 
was to me the most delightful and profitable of any; who 
listened with gentle indulgence to my verses, and was 
ever ready with helpful suggestion; whose equipoise and 
calm judgment saved me from many a foolish error; to 
whom, also, I am indebted for what small degree of suc- 
cess I have met or may meet. At whose long patience and 
fortitude I marvel; whose heart at eighty-four was still 
young; whose mind to the last hour was strong and clear, 
vari-toned and harmonious as a chime of bells on a crisp 
winter's night. To follow whom I hasten on, making 
more or less stops and changes by the way. My beautiful, 
precious (and to me) wonderful mother! B. M. L. 



The Picnic 



OUTWARD BOUND. 



A wild rose you threw in my lap that day, 

With, "Have a rose \" in a full, manly voice ; 

Then down pulled your cap in a boyish way, 

And peeped from under. I had but one choice : 

To look round and see whence came the token, 

By what brave youth those fair words were spoken. 

When meeting your keen glance from under your cap, 

I knew well how came the rose in my lap. 

"Did you throw this?" I took courage to say. 

(We had never met in a formal way, 

Scarce more than an hour had gone apace 

Since I for the first beheld your face.) 

You lifted your cap, then over your eyes 

You pulled it again. I picked up the prize 

And fastened it in my bosom secure. 

Ah, roses of May that wither in June, 

Like the love of a youth that passes too soon ! 



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ARRIVED. 

Amid the crowd 

Two faces shone for me, 
Like welcome beacon lights 

Upon a strange, tossed sea. 

We had been friends 
Before the day we met, 

Close to thy water's edge, 
Thou beauteous river Cheat! 

(For those are friends, 

Who, though they never meet, 
Still cultivate fair thought 

For fairer converse fit) 

Out on the rocks, 
With eager, flying feet. 

We sped far o'er thy waves, 
In sympathy full sweet. 

Long resting there, 

'Midst waters rushing by; 
On either side high hills, 

Arghed by the blue, blue sky. 



Cfte Ig^icnic 



And talking much, 

Though less by spoken word 
Than light from brow and eyes : 

That sign more subtly heard. 

The hour passed by — 
Still will two faces shine, 

'Mong memory's beacon lights, 
Across the sea of time, 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

How the fire-flies glowed and glimmered 
On the homeward ride at night-fall ! 
Glowed and glimmered on the hill-side, 
Making every tree a palace 
Fit to win my lady's love in; 
Making every peak a temple, 
Meet to consecrate that love in. 

Myriads of fiery insects 
Flashed and glittered by the road-side : 
Minding one of youthful fancy 
Flitting to soft chords of music; 
Minding one of youthful passion 
That stays not but passes onward 
To strange palace of new beauty. 

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How we sang the old and new songs, 
Sitting facing in the darkness 
On the homeward ride at night-fall! 
Sang we all the old and new songs 
Till our voices swelled together 
On the mezzo and the basso, 
Till our voices blent together. 
Both our faces blent with darkness. 

How you reached and touched my sun-hat. 

Where it lay upon my tired lap ! 

Touched and drew it gently toward you. 

Each an edge of brim we held to, 

Since we could not see each other, 

To defy the growing darkness. 

Lest in spite it try to cheat us 

Of the dawning light within us. 

Gently dawning like the morning. 

All unconscious of the splendor 

Hidden just beyond the hill-tops. 

Oh that gentle dawns might linger 
While the startled eyes grow clearer. 
While the wakened heart grow stronger, 
Strong to meet the scorching sun's rays, 
Burst too sudden o'er the valley, 
Rushing fiercely into noon day, 
Burning out the thing they kindled! 
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A LIFE DRAMA. 



CHILDHOOD. 



I'm laughing with you corn-fields, ho, ho ! 
And the merry wind doth blow — doth blow. 

EARLY FAITH. 

I'm praying with you, oh hills, 

Into the answ'ring blue ; 
My spirit riseth upwards. 

Piercing the light clouds through. 

SORROW. 

Oh valley of mighty shade, 

I cast my eyes to you. 
And the heart grows chill and faint — 

Look to the hills anew ! 

STRUGGLE AND PRAYER. 

I'm praying with you, oh hills, 

Into the silent gray; 
I strive to pierce the dark clouds, 

Seeking the upper day. 



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WEARINESS AND DOUBT. 



I'm moaning with you, oh winds, 
Show me some far-away cave 

Where you fold your wings to rest; 
Tell me some power to save ! 



MATURE) FAITH. 



Fm smiling with you, blue sky, 
Thou'rt there, though clouds hide thee 

For I know that God is Love, 
And good is sure to be. 



REST. 



I'm resting by you, 'old sea. 
Resting here on thy strand. 

While my ship makes ready to sail 
For yonder Beautiful Land. 



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SATIATE. 

When I am old I'd rather far 
A simple linked chain would please me, 
Would send delight along my veins 
Like that of youth at new possession, 
Than thus to find, while I am young, 
No meaning in a precious stone. 



II 



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MY SUN. 

When you ride by, 
However dark the sky may be, 
The sun has risen that day for 
When you ride by. 



T2 



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MY LADY WITH THE CURL. 

Oh beauteous sight! 
My lady with the curl, 
Seated by her earl, 
In azure dight. 

To match her ruby lips 
The ruby wine she sips. 
E'en Luna's self would prize 
The lustre of those eyes. 
And the coyness of her way 
Defies the dawn of day. 

Oh gracious sight! 
My lady with the curl, 
Seated by her earl, 
In azure dight. 



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C!)e Picnic 



WHICH CHOSE YOU? 

Crimson and purple and gold — 
As I lay on my couch, half in dream, 

I watched them circle and fold 
And blend and unfold, till it seemed 
My whole being, wrapped in the spell, 
Pulsated to music untold. 

Then thought came, blest savior from sense, 
"Which choose you: love, honor, or gold?' 

I answered, my soul all intense, 
"Love !" and caught at the crimson fold. 



U 



Cfte Jg^icnic 



AN EVENING REFLECTION. 

In the field over there where the bodies lie 

The pine trees and shadows are dark, and the sigh 

Of the wind seems to me more sad 

Than here where are hearts warm and glad. 

(Warm and glad? Yes, warm — but glad?) 

In the field over there where the bodies lie 

Is rest to be found by and by. 



n 



Cj)e Picnic 



TO THE RAIN. 

Oh the patter of the rain on the roof 

Near my bed ! 
Thus 'twill patter on my grave 

When I'm dead. 

But the music will be lost to my ear — 

Sweet lullaby ! 
Sooth me oft' to rest, soft rain, 

Before I die! 



i6 



Cfte Pfcnfc 



INTERROGATION. 

Were I to paint a picture 

That the world would stay to see, 
And passing, thou should'st chance to hear 

High praises sung of me, 
Would'st turn thy heart to love me 

For the artist I would be? 
Would I might paint a picture 

That the world would stay to see! 
But the visions come and go — 
The faint hand trembles so! 

Were I to write a poem 

That the world would stay to read, 
And the praises they should sing 

Were beyond a poet's meed, 
Would'st turn thy heart to love me 

For the gift of song in me? 
Would I might write a poem 

That the world would stay to read! 
But the magic art I long for 
Is withheld from me the more. 



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Were I to do a miracle 

That none but thee might know, 
And let the full light of my life 

Into thy pure life flow, 
Would'st turn thy heart to love me 
For myself I had given thee? 
Or should I darken thy bright life, 
And delay thy upward strife? 
Oh the years that are to be ! 
Oh thou blest eternity ! 



i8 



Cfte Picnic 



IF THOU WERT DEAD. 

If thou wert dead beneath this sod 

Where oft' thy lightsome foot hath trod, 

Where now I lie, 

I'd speak to thee in quiet tone, 

I'd make my great love for thee known. 

If thou wert dead. 

If thou wert buried in the sea, 

O'er rocks and scorching sands I'd flee, 

Calling thy name : 

For then thy spirit would be near, 

My burning, quenchless love to hear, 

If thou wert dead. 

But thou art daily in my sight; 

My soul is blinded by the light 

Thy presence sheds ; 

I dare not tell my love to thee; 

If thy dear form were far from me — 

If thou wert dead 



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TO JACK AT SEA. 

If I were a wave of the sea, dear Jack, 
Say, do you think I'd come back with the tide? 
No, no! I'd follow your ship, I ride by your side, 

I'd never come back, I never come back. 

How merrily, merrily I would dance 
By the great, strong ship that took you away! 
On the calmest sea I'd leap into spray 

Till I touched your brow, at your glance, your glance. 

And when you were weary I'd make you glad 
By the rain-bow hues I'd reflect for you. 
To remind you of the Giver true. 

We'd always be blest, we'd never be sad. 

At night, when you lay in your berth to rest, 

I'd whisper a song of the secret deep 

That bears you up. Without fear you would sleep. 
For ever the soul that trusteth is blest. 

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Cl)e j^ it nit 



When the sea tossed high and your ship sank low, 
I'd battle the waves with relentless force, 
And drive at the wind till it changed its course. 

Love can battle so — Love such strength may know. 

If I were a wave of the sea, dear Jack, 
Say, do you think I'd come back with the tide? 
No, no! I'd follow your ship, I'd ride by your side, 

I'd never come back, I'd never come back. 



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SORROW. 

"We glory in tribulation also." — Rom. 5 : 3. 

There came a rapping, rapping, 
At my door one winter's night. 

"Who's there?" I cried. '"Tis sorrow 
Come thy true love to requite." 

"Pass on, thou thing of darkness, 
For in garments black thou'rt dight, 
Unfitting thee to enter 
To my feast so warm and bright." 

"But they are of richest sable, 
Studded with the gems of night, 

Lined through with costly velvet 
Of rare weave and purest white." 

With that the door swung open, 

And my guest majestic stood 
In such supernal beauty, 

That my soul in reverence bowed. 



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Cbe Picnic 



"I am an honored host, sir, 
Thou art not among the least — 

Nay, I glory in such presence, 
Come thus timely to my feast." 



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Cfte picnic 



MY SAILOR BOY. 

I know a sailor boy who's gone to sea ; 

For long, long years he'll not come back to me; 

He took away some blue from out my skies ; 

The sea, it will be bluer when his eyes, 

So kind and gentle, look into its depths. 

Wher'er he guides his ship the breeze will blow 

Truer, because of his true heart, I know. 

And with majestic calm the waters roll. 

In time of fiercest storm, to his calm soul: 

For my sailor boy knows a quietude 

Where storm of sea or life shall ne'er intrude. 



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A RESPONSE. 

Still, often do I dwell upon that look, 
So calm and gentle and yet so intent, 

Almost there was an eagerness, I think. 

In those dark eyes and face out toward me bent. 

And I have sat and wondered since that time. 

What drew your face interest out toward my own? 

What held those reverent eyes that would not gaze 
Within, where dwell my soul and I alone? 

Ah, saw you in my face the traces borne 
Of sorrow and endurance closely barred? 

And sought you there some sympathy or help 
To cheer and lighten your own lot so hard? 

A shadow lurked within your heart so drear, 
And hung its pall upon your forehead white : 

The evil thing full patiently you bore. 

And braved your soul to meet the coming night. 

If aught of sympathy or strength you found, 

When that calm look intent you bent toward me, 

'Twere compensation for my burden borne. 
Thrice glad my heart, thrice blessed would I be ! 

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RELINQUISHMENT. 

Here is the grave I have made — 
'Tis long, and wide, and deep; 

Here do I lay 

My love away 
To sleep. To wake? — To sleep. 

All night have I dug in the clods, 
Through wind and driving sleet; 

While hot tears fell, 

My grief to tell, 
Down to my bleeding feet. 

Through the long night have I toiled 
In the dark and the chilling rain, 

To hide secure 

Forevermore 
The cause of my bitter pain. 

Oh that the morning might dawn, 
To show my bewildered eyes 

The thing I have done 

Is completely done ! 
Oh that the sun would rise! 



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A MIRACLE. 

How strange and blest the miracle that wrought 

Upon my spirit at the touch of thine ! 

Past years of futile strife and suffering 

Were suddenly effaced and counted naught. 

Though but a moment since my mind was fraught 

With grave anxiety and dreaded pain, 

Of future there was none, or good as none ; 

The present was complete and to remain. 

So it seemed, and much is in the seeming. 

A new-born soul, laid bare for your behest, 

Having no scar nor wrinkle from the past. 

Impressible, thine impress only craving : 

Much like this I fancy we shall fall 

Before the Gracious Lover of us all ; 

Absorbed in Him to whom we make our vow, 

Eternity an endless, perfect Now. 



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CDe Picnic 



THE SILENCE ROCK. 

A lone, bare rock I know, 
Close to the surging sea, 
Barring the ceaseless waves 
From a silent land. Oh, 
What soundless depths there be 
That still land knoweth not! 

Woe, woe! — woe, woe! 
The surgings of my soul 
Toward thee thou dost not know- 
Thou dost not know — woe. woe! 



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IN A YEAR. 



THE DARKENED WAY. 

I traveled through a narrow, darkened way, 
Noisesome with sounds of striving and despair. 
Heart-sick and dumb, I struggled toward the glare 
Which shone beyond and promised perfect day. 
Confused was I, forgetting e'en to pray. 
At length I reached the open and the light — 
"Oh God," I cried, "let fall the gracious night !" 
There, before me, the heated desert lay. 
Backward I turned and looked far down the path 
Which I had trod and hated in my wrath : 
Aslant the darkness pierced a ray of light, 
Which led to fertile fields and waters bright. 
Blinded by grief, I'd passed it in my pain — 
I reached out toward it — lo, a gulf between 1 

IN THE DESERT. 

A stupor crept around my bruised heart, 
Nor would it move, nor would its coil unroll, 
But fixed its eyes upon my fainting soul. 
And glared, and licked content its evil dart, 
And waited but to give its keenest smart. 
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Helpless, I watched it till my eyes grew dim, 

My ears were dulled, my tongue grown speechless, clave; 

The weak hands dropped ; my spirit almost fled — 

I breathed thy name, oh Christ — The thing lay dead. 



Around the world I see a serpent coil, 

And souls are crushed and writhe in agony. 

Oh men, but breathe the name of Christ, and trust — 

Lo, all our God has promised us, shall be. 

ROUSED FROM STUPOR. 

Hard waged I in a battle for the right. 
In gleams of light that girt my soul the sword 
Of truth I held flashed forth the Holy word. 
Till mortal eyes were dimmed to lesser light. 

And eager hearts grew strong to feel its might. 
Spurred by an earthly love from Heaven sent, 
Led by the smile of God which o'er me bent, 
Nor fainted I, but pressed hard to the fight. 

When sudden, lo, the victory drew near. 
And from the hand of God was offered me 
A robe so pure, so white, so heavenly, 
I faltered at" the sight in dazzled fear. 

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I'd raised my arm for one last stroke of might, 
But trembling, let God's weapon fall and caught 
Instead the sword my earthly love had wrought. 
Christ! Canst save mef Show all men else thy light! 



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A MYSTERY. 

I saw a face rise out of sorrow 

And the night, 
And turn its deep-set, radiant eyes 

Toward the light, 
And laugh, yes, laugh more heartily 
Than any I had seen before. 



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SHE IS NOT DEAD. 

A queen among the mothers of our land, 
Stately and glorious in death she lay; 
Consummation of the most beautiful 
In picture, poem, music, nature — all. 
A silver light shone o'er her ebon robes, 
Reflected from the face divinely touched, 
And almost, in my ecstasy, I said, 
'Th\s is an angel form — she is not dead." 



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A LONGING. 

Oh to hide in the secret of the storm ! 

To be shut in from sound of pain and mirth 

My own dull grief forever awed and mute, 

Or with loud cry sent forth upon the blast, 

To blend, to dwindle, and be lost from hence, 

To roll unceasing with the thunder-bolts 

Through chaos of the sordid things of time. 

Then leave me there, forgetting and forgot, 

To fall asleep and be forever lulled 

On the throbbing, mighty bosom of the storm. 



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'I HAVE PUT AWAY CHILDISH THINGS." 

When I was an untutored child 

I used to weep, and weep, and weep, 

Because I could not lift the world 
And lay it at the Savior's feet. 

But now that I a woman am, 
I shall no longer weep, and weep, 

I'll go myself, so full of sin, 
And lay me at the Savior's feet. 

And then, perchance, by work and prayer, 
By love, that knows no thought of self, 

Happily I may bring my share 
Of wounded ones to His relief. 



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. AN ADMONITION. 

Work, hands, work ! Run, feet, run ! 
Drive the tears back — Drown the sorrow- 
Think not of failure in the past, 
Look well unto the morrow. 
Some little good may yet be done, 
Press down the swollen heart, 
Haste on and do thy part ; 
Run, feet, run ! 



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TO A FRIEND. 

Great heart, out from thy presence awed I come, 
Little and unworthy. — If thus I feel 
When God himself doth in thy face reveal, 
How shall I bear His light when life is done ! 



IMMORTAL. 

If the flowers of yesterday hang furled, 

Droop pale on their stem, what think you — say? 
They are not dead — they shall live alway, 

Bright, 'gainst the somber shadows of my world. 

If yon star I have loved and watched so long, 
Fade, shall I mourn if it go from its place 
To throw clearer light over larger space, 

Fairer worlds, and sing a diviner song? 



yj 



Cfte Picnic 



SHOW ME A MAN. 

Shall I sing you a song 

That is joyous and strong, 

That drives away sorrow, 

And dread for the morrow? 

Show me a man that is gentle and true, 

And all the day long will I sing to you. 

Shall I sing to your heart 

Till sweet rest I impart; 

Till with eyes that were blind 

You see good in mankind, 

And your faith in our God 

Mounts anew 'neath His rod? 

Show me a man that is loyal and strong — 

I will sing songs to you all the day long. 



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FACES. 

One glimpse of thy face beloved 

Cheereth me long on my way : 
Whether 'tis kindled like flame in the night, 

Or saddened and dark like a cloud by day 
One look in thy face beloved, 

Guideth me far on my way. 



I sleep, 
And dream I see your face; 

I wake, 
And lo, the glory of the place! 
The humble place wherein I dwel 



Thine eyes gaze into the depthless sea, 
Mine uplift to the deep above — 

Me thinks it reflects the sea and thy face— 
The sea and thy face, oh love ! 

Out from the blue 'neath yon rifted cloud 
Thy face bends o'er me from above — 

Oh love, the sea and the sky and thy face ! 
The sky and thy face, oh love! 



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AN INVOCATION. 

Stay, cloud in the dying west! 

When the sun's far down, 

And the nightly shroud 

Is cast o'er the earth, 

Stay, crimson cloud, 

A miracle prove, 

To teach us our God is love — 

That His love burns high, 

When the shadows fall. 

(That our God is love? 

That he loves us all?) 

Go, cloud in the west ! 

Crimson cloud on purple breast 

Of the hills deepening 

Into the dark night — 

Thy stay were but vain — 

A steadier Light 

Burns into our hearts. 

Though dews fall heavy and chill, 

And night cast her shroud — 

Go, crimson cloud ! 



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